


Veiled Intentions

by TheRedHarlequin



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 1920s slang is the cat's pajamas, Anxiety, Barry is a disabled former soldier who uses a cane, Crime Boss King Cold aka Leonard Snart, Disability, Dwarves, Elves, Everything that's what, Fantasy 1920s, For the coldflash exchange of 2018, Gnomes, M/M, Oh what has the author done, PTSD, Scars, Someone hold this toasted cinnamon roll, War, humans with magic, injuries, oh my
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-21 01:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedHarlequin/pseuds/TheRedHarlequin
Summary: In a faraway world of magic and war that echos similarities of our history, there are two lovers with thinly veiled intentions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liu/gifts).



> This gift is for Liu! Happy ColdFlash Exchange! I really hope you love it!
> 
>  
> 
> Special thanks to these wonderful baes for their help and beta skills:  
> meowitskatmofo  
> Crimson1  
> voiceofdragons

_ In a world where fantastical things happen every day, where many miraculous races coexist and magic comes as easily as breathing, there is still war. _

* * *

 

**Universe : Earth 777**

**Decade : 1920s**

**Location : United Realms, Central City**

* * *

 

Barry Allen had been too young to join the World War, it had ended when he was only sixteen, but he had hit eighteen just in time for the Border Wars to begin.

No one was exactly sure how it had started, only that something had ignited a war between the Goblins and Trolls with all the fury and viciousness both races were well known for.

It wasn't necessarily a problem for the United Realms, except for the fact that both races’ territories bordered their own, and the brutal battles had seemed to make them far too bold for anyone's good.

Considering that Central City, his home, was one of the cities closest to the fighting, Barry had seen it as his responsibility to do anything he could for the war effort, especially given the rarity of his magic.

Barry, like all humans and the majority of the Greater races, had come into his powers in the midst of his teen years, if a bit later than was usual. Most races with magic experienced their Emergence, the first time they used their core magic, shortly after hitting puberty. It had taken Barry an extra three years. While it was uncommon but certainly not unheard of, he had received a sort of mix of his parents’ magics. Nora Allen had a moderate control over electricity; only able to summon up enough to power small appliances and stun the odd mugger, she didn't use it for much else as the work of a freelance music teacher didn't call for it. Henry Allen had the power of vibration, giving him the ability to temporarily phase small parts of his body through solid objects, a wonderful power for a surgeon.

No one had foreseen how the mixing of these small magics would result in one of the most obscure rarities: Speed Magic.

Barry had to admit that of all the reactions, his favorite had come from his childhood bully; Tony Woodward. His expression had been one that Barry still remembered fondly many years later. 

During one routine shakedown for money, a steel fist coming towards his face, the adrenaline had been just what Barry needed to come into his own. The way everything had slowed to a crawl and he had all the time in the world to move out of the way of Tony’s fist. The sparks and the rush when he ran, as well as the triumph he felt when he pulled Tony off of his feet. He had finally given his childhood bully some long overdue payback by running until half the boy’s clothes had burned off. It was all an incredible feeling.

It had been one of the most thrilling moments of his life; the petty revenge of locking Tony in the principal’s office half naked had been an added bonus. Even if Barry had to go home for a change of clothes immediately afterwards. Tony hadn't been the only one to lose some threads to friction fire. 

Luckily, his parents had been so happy that he had come into his own at last that they didn't even ground him for skipping the rest of his classes to go running. His dad took the day off to give him a physical and make the mirror calls to have Barry’s magic properly registered the following week day.

His mom rescheduled all of her appointments with her students. She had baked up a storm that night both to celebrate his Emergence and to keep up with Barry's new voracious appetite when it kicked in for the first time. Then they all spent the rest of the weekend playing board games, testing out Barry's magic, cooking and baking together, and informing close friends and family of his Emergence.

When Iris and Joe arrived to congratulate them, she had demanded Barry carry her on his back around the block over and over again like one of her favorite daredevil carnival rides that always seemed to give Joe gray hairs. He eventually threatened to charge her for tickets as well, resulting in much groaning, even though her own Truth magic meant she knew very well he was bluffing.

His parents also invested in a tailor who specialized in simple fire resistant enchantments. There were only so many times Barry could pull the Emergence card when arrested for indecent exposure.

For the first time in his life, Barry had felt himself in the fullest sense. Perhaps more importantly, the rush of freedom that filled him each time he used his speed was like nothing else in the world, and rendered him utterly incapable of giving a worthy description to anyone else no matter how many times he tried explaining it.

An elated fifteen year old Barry Allen had never thought that his beloved magic would cost him so much.

* * *

_ No, oh gods no, they were so close, they should have been safe. There was no time. Two, there were two of them, he wasn't fast enough, he wouldn't make it in time, he wasn't  _ **_fast_ ** _ enough, he could only- it burns, it burns,  _ **_it burns_ ** _ \- there were people calling his name, someone was crying, so loud, but one voice was screaming louder than any of them. _

_ It was him. _

Barry sat up like a shot, throwing himself from his sweat soaked bed sheets and almost tumbling to the floor. He was choking, he couldn't breathe, it burned-

_ No, no it doesn’t _ , he told himself.

He clutched the dog tags at his chest and let the hard metal dig brutally into the scar tissue of his palm, and reached with his other had to grab the soft plush hedgehog his mother had made him so long ago, holding it to his face and breathing in its familiar and grounding scent.

Clarity was slowly returning. He needed to rewind and recite, like Dr. Jiwe had taught him. Details, focus on the details.

First, slow the memories down and rewind them. The images in his head that were overwhelming him minutes before went backwards, still horrible, but controlled. He was in control.

Recite the facts. He was in his apartment in the center of Central City, a section of the warehouse district that had been recently converted for government official residences. It was midwinter, and there was a draft because the insulating wards on his apartment were down again. It was five o’clock in the morning, still not quite bright enough for true sunlight. The nails pinching into his skin were real, the burning wasn't real,  _ this _ was real. The scars were there, but were settled, it proved the explosion was just in his head, a bad memory. He was  _ home _ . He was  _ safe _ .

Or at least as safe as he would ever be when all his enemies could be found inside his head.

By the time Barry felt centered enough to try getting out of bed, over two hours had passed and sunlight was streaming in through the high up window of his apartment.

He took a deep shaky breath. There was no point trying to go back to sleep, it never worked anymore, and he had plenty of things to do before his meeting that night.

So he grabbed his cane and slowly got to his feet, hissing as his bad right leg popped and ached from the lack of movement. He clenched the pommel of his ironwood cane, his thumb smoothing over the etched runes to distract himself. After a deep breath, he stretched his leg slowly a few times to try and lessen the dull pain, and it eventually faded to something more manageable.

He made his way to the bathroom to go through his morning routine. Once finished, he stood in front of the covered bathroom mirror and, like every morning, waited a moment to prepare himself. He removed the towel from the mirror, avoiding his reflection by tilting his head to the left as he started brushing his teeth. Eventually he couldn't put it off any longer and steeled himself before looking up and facing himself fully.

His one good eye examined the molten like burn scars encompassing the right side of his face critically, noting which ones seemed slightly better today since last night's burn salve application and which ones didn't. The ones closest to his hairline had softened a touch, but the rest were as stark as ever. The ones on his ear were the sorest today, just the brush of air as he moved was almost painful.

Barry sighed and grabbed his comb and began the careful process of tidying his hair without catching it on any of the scar tissue at his hairline. He had gotten better at it since he had first started out, when even the slightest tug on his hair used to stretch the skin of his scalp to pull at his scars unbearably.

He proceeded to get dressed and check his bag to ensure he had everything he needed for the day, another exhausting but necessary affair, and finished with only a few small breaks in between whenever he had grown too tired or his leg ached too much to stand.

Barry cursed when he realized it was almost noon by the time he finished preparing, grabbed the thin box on his bedside table and returned to the bathroom. After placing it on the edge of the sink, he opened it carefully and picked up the colorless half mask inside and held it up to his damaged skin. “On.”

At his command, the mask formed itself to his face like a second skin, and then settled until Barry was looking in the mirror and could barely pick out the seam of the mask as it blended perfectly with his skin tone. He brushed his bangs with his fingers so it would fall over his unseeing eye. Good enough.

  
“Alright, you have your orders,” he told himself firmly. “Let's get this done. You've faced battlefields and enemies far worse than some gangster. This will be easy.”


	2. A Cold Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry goes to his meeting and receives a chilly welcome.
> 
> Featuring Meow's Maury the Mouth!

It was not easy, not even a little.

Barry had been a bit late, though that really wouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who knew him. The meeting was supposed to take place just after sundown. Yet here he was, almost half an hour past. This big city was filled with far too many distractions for someone as scatter minded as himself, especially since he had returned from the war. Had the crowds  _ always _ been so overwhelming?

The place they were meeting at was a high class dinner and show joint, because why wouldn't anyone want a steak with a live performance of Dracula? Though he  _ was _ pleasantly surprised to find actual vampires among the cast and manning the production with a more realistic spin to things. It made his opinion of the owner of the establishment soar.

But the show, while he would have enjoyed it any other time, wasn't why he was there.

He nodded to the hostess and waved the well meaning lady off when she made to follow him to help him into a chair, because of _course_ he’d had to experience a flare up just as he arrived and the concerned hostess had been hovering ever since. Any other time he might have relented just to give her some peace of mind, but he couldn't afford any signs of weakness around the criminal element; especially not one such as King Cold.

He grimaced at the bright lighting and unconsciously ran a hand over his mask to check it was still well in place.

The criminal boss didn't even turn to greet him as Barry sat down, his attention fully on the play going on below them from their lofted VIP table.

Barry waited a few moments, letting himself absorb as many details as he could. The man was elven, that much was easy to tell from his ears and what he could see of his long elegant fingers. He was beautiful as most elves were, though his profile had more of a hard edge to it with charming little moles that spoke of a mixed bloodline. To Barry, it just made him that much more attractive and mysterious. It didn't help at all that he was a sharp dresser: the dark gray of his suit went very well with his complexion.

Enough of that, Barry reprimanded himself. This was a serious business meeting, not some blind date.

His commanding officer had sent him here to broker an important military deal with the head of Central City’s underground, a deal that could possibly put an end to the Border Wars. He was _not_ here to gawk at some criminal as if he were the cat’s meow.

When Cold still made no effort to acknowledge him, he was certain that he wouldn't get the other man's attention any time soon without making an annoyance of himself, something he couldn't afford if he wanted the talks to go well. So he decided to wait it out and ordered some water and a pasta dish.

Roughly an hour passed and Barry finished his food just as the play ended. King Cold stood from his seat with barely a glance at him. The elf drained his glass of whiskey before speaking.

“I've already told your superiors my demands. So if they would stop wasting my time sending me their good little soldiers to try and change my mind, we would all be better off.” Cold turned on his heel to leave.

“So, you're not even going to bother talking to me?” Barry's eyes narrowed, finally growing angry for the first time after being kept waiting. “Like it or not, you are a citizen of this city, too. I was told you were born and raised here, but if you had any love for your home,  _ you _ wouldn't be wasting  _ our _ time making impossible demands while disaster only draws closer by the day. We stand to lose our home. Is there  _ anything _ you care about other than yourself?”

“Yes,” Cold purred, still not bothering to look at him. “Money.”

He left without another word.

Barry gritted his teeth, ignoring the way his clenched jaw pulled painfully at his hidden scars. 

* * *

“I would say he is the rudest and most self-centered man I've ever met, but I have a long known history of dealing with men like that, and I can't accurately judge him by only  _ two sentences _ ,” Barry groaned, his hands twisting his cane in frustration. He was not happy to be reporting with no progress. “And he's refused to see me after only  _ one _ meeting.  _ If _ you can even call it that!”

The Dwarf across from him snorted. “I told yous, the guy’s a stone. You're just the latest in a long line ‘o fellas that have tried and failed to get him to see reason. I keep tellin’ ya not to get your hopes up, kid.”

“I know, Maury, but this is important,” Barry frowned. “Did he seriously make one of his demands that he and all of his people be exempt from the _law_?! Is he  _ crazy _ ?!”

“Who knows with this guy, like tryin’ ta’ figure out a bag of cats. Don't bother,” Maury waved him off with the enchanted wood of his prosthetic left hand. “Now, tell me about that new apartment of yours. It doing okay? I remember yous wanted a pet, but theys don't allow’em, eh?”

Barry deflated with a sigh. “It's good enough, need to get the insulation wards looked at is all. And yeah, no pets,” the last statement seemed to take the rest of his energy.

“I'll tell yous if I find anywhere else, Barr,” the old Dwarf assured him. “Now, why don't I walk ya out? That's a nice new cane, eh? One of Ramone’s newest gadgets?”

Barry huffed a laugh before moving to his feet. “Of course, and as always he insists it's just a prototype he would've thrown out anyway, so there's absolutely no way he'll accept any money for it.”

“Squirrelly little bastard, but not a bad sort,” Maury limped alongside him, their canes taping against the wooden floor in tandem as they left his office and made for the elevator.

“I'm going to keep trying,” Barry said. “I won't disappoint you, Colonel.”

“Barr, don't worry about it too much. And don't call me that when it’s just yous and me. Anyway, guys like that don't just change their minds overnight unless something catches their eye, and trust me, that's rarely a good thing for whatever does,” Maury grumbled. “I ain't going ta’ stop ya, but try to take it easy. When's the last time yous been out, eh? Since the shindig of that smug Wells’ bastard, I mean.”

Barry snorted. “Come on, don't pretend like you two didn't get on well. Harry is every bit as biting and sarcastic as you, and stubborn to boot. And, ah, I don't think I have, since then, I mean,” he finished sheepishly. “I've- I've just been tired.”

He used to go out semi-regularly before _it_ happened, but now it just took so much energy to even get out of bed in the mornings, much less stay out long enough to go somewhere else to get a decent dinner. He knew it was bad to not at least try to do something nice for himself that didn't involve staying in when he wasn't working, but he was just always so  _ tired _ .

“I know, kid,” Maury sighed. “Trust me, I  _ know _ . Look, I'm not saying join the circus, just maybe get a drink sometime, ya know what I'm saying?”

“I understand, Maury,” Barry smiled softly. “So, how are the kids? Your oldest niece is coming back to visit from college soon, right?”

As predicted, the change of topic was met with a look that plainly said ‘I’m only letting you because you're a stubborn mule’, before the old Dwarf grinned. “Yeah, she's doing great. No clue what she wants to do yet, but whatever it is, she's going to be great! She's got a head for all that science stuff.” 

“I'm sure she will be,” Barry laughed. “You know, I think I will stop for a drink. Know any good bars?”

* * *

Of the number of bars that Maury had recommended, one had caught Barry's attention: Saints and Sinners.

Not only was it a good bar, the lighting was dim enough to make him feel comfortable. The lack of crowds was another point in its favor.

It was also owned by Leonard Snart.

Barry knew it was unlikely that he would see the elf there in person, but maybe he could learn something at the same time as trying to relax.

So the next night after completing his errands, he caught a cab to the rougher part of downtown to the address Maury had given him.

When he entered he had to resist the urge to touch his face, the warm air inside felt nice on his bare skin, but he still felt that moment of vulnerability as others’ eyes washed over him. Thankfully, they didn't remain on him for long. Another thing he liked about lower class bars like this was that everyone minded their own business and didn't gawk as if they had never seen any sort of injury before. He wasn't on display here, so he could relax. It had been a while since he had left the house without his mask, he deserved a night without having to worry how he looked.

Barry moved to the bar, leaning his cane against his stool, and caught the bartender's attention, a beautiful Gnome woman with dark skin and darker corkscrew curls. “A bottle of Irish Cream liquor and your highest HFC whiskey.”

She hesitated at his order and looked him up and down skeptically. “ID?”

Barry just smiled and handed it over. High Fuel Count was a type of alcohol made especially for people whose magic had the side effect of burning through most others, and was illegal to sell to anyone without a little special stamp on their ID. 

Her eyebrows shot up before she handed it back. “You got it, just gimme a minute.”

While she grabbed his order out of a locked and warded cabinet, Barry glanced around. The place was spacious and even had a diner attached with plenty of booths, and a flight of stairs that led up into a loft of some sort with tinted glass. He had no way of knowing if Cold was here, and he didn't want to wear out his welcome by being too nosy or attracting the wrong kind of attention. He was sure this could turn into his favorite watering hole if he was able to stick around.

Barry smiled and thanked the bartender when she returned with his drinks.

* * *

Meanwhile, Leonard Snart was reclined in his office on his leather couch reading a new book. His two of his top trigger men, Mick and Mark, were arguing over the upcoming sports season by the window looking down on the bar.

“-just saying, the Keystone Kelpies are looking good this year,” Mick grumbled.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mark groaned, only to glance back down at the bar and suddenly grin. “Holy smokes, would you look at the getaway sticks on _that_ one! He could wrap those things around me  _ twice _ . Does it look like he's here with anyone?”

“Straying eyes, sparky, straying eyes. Ol’ Misty will toss you in the harbor again if he thinks you're stepping out on him.  _ Again _ ,” Mick snorted, but curiosity got the better of him. He paused from taking another swig of his beer. “Huh.”

“What is it?” Mark asked, still grumbling about wet blankets, but he perked up when Mick turned to Len instead of answering.

“Hey, Boss.” 

“Yes, Mick?”

“Ain't this the little soldier boy ya had that meeting with last night?” Mick gestured to the window, turning back to it to give the kid another look. 

“I highly doubt one of the military’s precious ‘good ol’ boy's’ would come around here. Not up to their ‘fine’ standards,” Len drawled.

“I’m sure of it. Looks a bit different outta uniform an' all, so it took me a second, but that's him. Nice scars, didn't see those before. Must got one of those new masks Ramone Industries ‘ave been putting out."

The sound of a book snapping shut preceded Len appearing next to him with a bored expression, but Mick knew that gleam of curiosity in his eye.

“Points for persistence,” Len tilted his head. He reminded Mick of a bird when he did that, like one of them falcons that had found something it couldn't decide whether or not to eat. “...Interesting.”

“Thought he was just another one of those pencil pushing glad rags, same as all the others,” Mick said. “Could’ve gotten the limp from anything. But you don't get scars like  _ that _ sitting behind a desk.”

“Mmmm… No, no you don't. Talk to Shawna after closing, find out everything he said and what he wanted. Then contact Trick Jr, tell him to talk to that highbinder of his. I want to know more about our little soldier.”


	3. Lunch and a Liason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is surprised by a new development. But if it means more good coffee in the forseeable future, bring it on.

Barry frowned as he pushed the elevator button that would send him up to Maury’s office. He hadn't expected to be called back so soon. He rubbed his temple to ease the slight lingering hangover. Oh no, he had not been planning to leave the house today. Not until he had gotten an urgent mirror message from Maury’s frazzled secretary demanding his presence.

He sighed and stepped off of the elevator when the doors opened. At least he wasn't leaning so much on his cane today, he could probably even walk without it for a bit, but he knew the temptation would only lead to stressing the injury and restart the cycle sooner.

Barry knocked. “Major Barry Allen, reporti-”

“Damnit, kid, just get in here!”

He hid a smile as he ducked inside. One of the things Maury always said he didn't miss about the service was ‘all the formal time wasting bullshit’, so of course Barry couldn't resist pulling his leg occasionally.

Though sometimes that resulted in having said prosthetic leg thrown at him.

No, Maury was not one for formalities at all.

Barry's smile all but vanished when he saw the sweat on Maury’s brow and his worried look. “What's happened?”

“What's happened?! What's _happened_ , he says!” Maury was clutching a tumbler of scotch in his good hand. “Why don't _you_ tell _me_ what the hell happened, kid?! I put yous on this mission to keep yous out of trouble, not for yous to go and make your own! I talked to yous just yesterday about attracting attention! What the hell did you do?!”

Barry stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Cold just contacted my office saying he wants another meeting! With _you_ specifically,” he jabbed a finger in Barry's direction. “That freezing bag of air ain't seen _anybody_ twice, and he sure as hell ain't ever _requested_ nobody! The higher ups have been grilling me and shit since the call came in! Now tell me, _what did you do_ , Barr?!”

Barry opened and closed his mouth helplessly. “I- I don't know. I already told you everything that happened at the meeting.”

“Well, what did you do after you left here?!” Maury demanded. “Thought yous going home right after, or was just gonna get some giggle water?! You didn't try _stalking_ the bastard, didja?”

"No! And I did go home. I went out only last night!" He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “I just went to Saints & Sinners. It was one of the places you mentioned, remember?”

“ _Saints & Sinners_?! I only mentioned it as a landmark while telling you about that _other_ place! I told yous it was a bad neighborhood full of hoods and steer clear of it, not open up a tab! Why-” Maury’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You figured out who owns it. Damnit, kid! That's Cold’s favorite hangout, one of his first ever legit businesses! His whole gang, including his top button men, hang around there! Did you _talk_ to him?!”

“No! I didn't even see him!” Barry insisted.

“But I bet my ass he saw _you_! Did you even stop to _think_?! What if he thought you were more annoying alive than dead?! Hanging around there with no back up is a good way to get filled with daylight! He could've had you _shot_ in your seat and not a damn soul would've seen a thing! You want me to be the one to tell Henry and Nora that their damn fool of a son survived a war just to get pulled out of the harbor?!” Maury seethed.

Barry swallowed back the argument that had been brewing in his mind. Maury was right. He had only been thinking of his mission, of proving that he still had what it took. That he was broken but not useless, a soldier and not just some dewdropper, and in doing so he had made blatant rookie mistakes that could have cost not only himself but all those he loved very dearly.

“I'm sorry…”

All the air just seemed to leave Maury at once, the old Dwarf just sighing. “Always so damn smart and reasonable. Until it comes ta _yaself_. It's a serious character flaw, kid.”

Barry's lips quirked in a small smile. “It's a flaw I can live with.”

“Until it kills ya, ya mean,” Maury grumbled.

Barry wasn't sure what to say to that, unable to offer any genuine reassurances, so he focused on his mission. “Did Cold say anything other than to request a meeting? Like why?”

“Not a damn thing. Just said to dress ‘in anything other than that stiff uniform’ and he'll be arranging a different place to meet, this time for lunch.”

He was confused by such a harmless yet strange request. Barry had no idea what to expect from this dangerous and capricious elf, and for the first time in quite a while he felt that jittery mix of apprehension and adrenaline. Whatever happened, he doubted it would leave him bored.

Anything was better than feeling tired and numb.

* * *

Barry adjusted his bow tie for what felt like the umpteenth time, trying to find a more comfortable position for it that didn't aggravate the burns that wound around the base of his neck. He was able to hide it with high collars for the most part, but it was irritating to do so.

He gave up on the bow tie and smoothed his hands down his new crimson and gold embroidered waistcoat, red dress shirt, and black slacks. Maury had known he hadn't bothered to buy any fancy clothes since he joined the military as his uniform had always been sufficient, so he gave him the name and address of a tailor who owed him a favor, and made it clear to get something nice enough not to embarrass himself in front of Cold.

Normally Barry would have just gone for whatever rags were most affordable and comfortable, but after having seen for himself how Cold dressed, he agreed to at least make an effort.

Barry took a deep breath, ensured his mask was firmly in place, and made his way inside the restaurant.

It was every bit as high end as the dinner theater Barry had met the gangster at previously, but at the same time more… intimate? The lights were dimmer and there was a strong sense of privacy. He wasn't able to put his finger on what was off about it until he passed close to one of the tables on his way to reception.

There was no sound, Barry realized as he watched two patrons’ mouths move without hearing a thing they said. Each table had an individualized ward of silence around it. It was impressive and had likely cost the owner a fortune.

After giving his name to the host, he was escorted to an elevator and taken to the third floor.

Stepping off, he noticed the difference of seating right away. Tables with high backed leather chairs befitting a grand library were separated and encircled by gently lit blue walls made of water magic that cast the entire floor in a soft cool tone. He was guided to the center of the room where he found the table already occupied.

Barry swallowed tightly as he was suddenly hit with the vast difference between being in Leonard Snart’s presence and being the subject of his full attention.

The elf was reclined in a comfortable looking leather chair, dressed to the nines same as when they had last met, only instead of the dark gray suit and blue scarf from before, it was a blue suit, black tie, and a black and white pinstripe shirt underneath. Just behind him, a blue overcoat was draped over his chair that went perfectly with the bright blue eyes that were currently watching Barry like a hawk. He felt not unlike one of the pinned dragonflies in Harry’s specimen displays.

Barry could tell the moment he stepped within the hidden ward circle when his ears popped.

“Mr. Allen, thank you for agreeing to a second meeting. I apologize for my behavior last time, you caught me on a bad night,” Cold gestured to the seat opposite him with a flourish. “I hope to make up for it. Please, sit. Do you like coffee? I took the liberty of ordering some for us.”

Barry was thrown by the complete switch in attitude from last time.

“Uh- coffee? Oh, coffee, yes! Thank you,” he sat down and had to stifle a sigh of relief as the pressure was eased off his leg. The luxurious comfort of the plush leather seating didn't go unappreciated either.

Barry turned his attention to the carafe on the table and used the excuse of pouring himself a cup to gather his thoughts. Not even a minute into the meeting and Cold had already surprised him. “I have to say, I didn't think I would hear from you. Our last meeting didn't end with much... civility. Mostly on my part. I apologize for any offense I have made.”

Cold waved it off, setting his own cup back onto its saucer. “Your reaction was stronger than most, but understandable given the circumstances.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Barry finished fixing his coffee and took a drink, and barely restrained a moan at the strong and rich taste. Gods _damn_ , but that was good coffee.

“Would you like to order lunch? My treat, of course,” Cold said.

“Ah, my superiors will cover expenses for these meetings-” Barry began but he was cut off.

“But not enough, I imagine. You have a cut off point, yes? Must be hard for a Speedster to restrain their appetite, regardless of your personal circumstances,” he drawled. “I don't imagine that government issued nutrition bars would be very satisfying on the long term.”

Barry almost dropped his cup, but just managed to set it down with a clink. Cold was staring unflinchingly into his eyes, and he had to resist the urge to cover the sightless one with his hand, the only part that the mask didn't cover.

“You've been checking up on me.” It wasn't a question.

“I like to know who I am dealing with, especially when the person in question takes to some light stalking,” the elf smirked at the flush of embarrassment that streaked across his face. “Besides, I doubt your superiors sent you in without knowing who _you're_ dealing with. Fair play and all that.”

Barry had no idea where or how Cold had gotten such information. Any race capable of magic was placed into one of three categories: Perimeter, Permeation, and Augmentation. Which category they fell under was a matter of public record along with a few other general details, like Barry's legal approval to consume HFC, and were featured on any citizen's personal identification.

But specifics, the fact that he was a _speedster_ , was not only private information most would reserve for family, close friends, employers or medical personnel, but given his military history it was should be be highly classified information at that. But he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised, a criminal of Leonard Snart’s caliber could open just about any backroom door.

Hence why they needed him.

“I won't say it wasn't what it looked like, but it wasn't my intention to be invasive or rude,” Barry replied apologetically. “I just thought that maybe if we spoke in a less formal setting- I don't know. It wasn't really a well thought out plan of action.”

Cold chuckled. “Not a well thought out plan, or not an officially _approved_ plan?”

“Bit of both,” Barry smiled weakly.

“It wasn't a bad attempt, really,” Cold propped his chin up on one palm to observe him thoughtfully. “It was a pleasant surprise. No one else has gone so far as to visit a dive bar in the middle of the night where not even the coppers will go, and all just to get my attention. It's flattering to say the least. But no, none of the social climbing mugs they've sent me had much in the way of what one would call ‘work ethic’, they tend to stick to the clip joints uptown. They're all from families with connections that sat them safely behind the lines and got them a few shiny trinkets to go with their uniforms for their ‘trouble’.”

The elf made no effort to hide his tone that positively dripped with contempt for the officers that had previously held Barry's job.

He shifted with uncertainty, biting his lip.

“It's not…”

Cold quirked a brow, his expression prodding him to continue.

“It's not a dive…” Barry flushed to his ear tips as a look of amusement filled Cold's face. “Saints & Sinners, I mean. I like it. It's comfortable. The places uptown, they're all bright, loud, and overpriced. It's exhausting,” his cheeks darkened as he realized he had become a bit too personal. “Sorry. Ah, lunch?” He waved a little desperately at the waitress, his focus averted so he didn't see the considering look Cold gave him.

They ordered quietly. Barry gave in and ordered a large lunch at Cold's insistence, and, well, it had been a long while since he had met his nutritional quota with actual food, so he may have gone a little overboard. But Cold said nothing and only appeared entertained as Barry ordered practically half of the menu.

The way Barry saw it, most of boss Cold's money was ill begotten anyway, so why not put it towards a good cause: like his empty stomach.

Halfway through their meal, well Barry's at any rate as Cold had finished some time ago, he tried to bring up the military’s offer.

“Another time,” Cold brushed him off before smoothly changing the conversation’s direction. “I'd rather talk about you. It's only natural that I should get to know who I'll be working with, don't you think? One is much more likely to agree to things when they're comfortable with one another. There should be a certain level of _trust_ between business partners, yes?”

It all sounded so reasonable when put that way. It _would_ be better if Barry was on good terms with the person he would be working with for the foreseeable future. Maybe Cold would be more amicable when they restarted negotiations at the next meeting, which Barry was pleased when Cold suggested to arrange the next one in just a few days time.

So they talked, and Barry found himself relaxing bit by bit in Cold's company, only catching himself checking to make sure his mask was still in place a handful of times.


	4. A Part in the Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Barry and Len make their own forms of progress.

When the night of their dinner meeting arrived, Cold refused once more to talk about the deal.

They ate at a beautiful secluded rooftop restaurant and were served by unseen sylphs, aether sprites that kept up a sweet smelling and soothing breeze as they dined. Barry was sure he'd had more glasses of decadent liquid chocolate truffles for dessert than he could afford on a month’s military salary, but Cold seemed all too happy to keep supplying them. Cold was insisting that he still didn't know Barry well enough to be perfectly comfortable discussing such serious business with him.

Barry still wasn't entirely sure how that led to a conversation involving his early life in the outer suburbs of Central City, when he came into his powers, and when he joined the military. But it was nice. Cold was a clever elf who didn't mind Barry's rambling, could follow his jabbering about the sciences, had his own opinions on the future of magic and engineering, and even shared Barry's obsession with sci-fi novels.

He was excited to learn Cold was personal friends with one of Barry's favorite authors, Rebecca Bloom, a novelist of a wild sci-fi series involving aliens, romance, and hilarious adventure.

“I'll give them your regards. I think I can get an advanced signed copy of the next book for you.” Cold was clearly pleased with Barry's choice in literature, though he couldn't figure out why. Maybe the elf was just an equally big fan, though he certainly contained his enthusiasm better than Barry did.

“ _Really_?!” Barry said excitedly. He quickly lowered his voice, his face a dark pink when several people glanced over at their table. “I'm so sorry, you must think I'm some crazed fan or something. I just- those books helped get me through a lot of bad times. A- a friend lent them to me when I was still in the infantry. I still have the books. The friend…” He trailed off. “I've always wanted to thank them, but they never do book tours, and I just never seemed to have the time to pen a letter.”

“I see. I assure you, they'll be very happy to know their books helped someone in such a way,” Cold told him. “They have their own experiences with loss.”

Barry smiled brightly. “Thank you, Cold.”

“Len. Call me Len.”

“Call me Barry then.”

Barry's heart raced and he found he rather liked Len's smile.

* * *

They had breakfast three days later and Barry was startled by how much energy he seemed to have that day. He couldn't remember the last time he didn't dread having to go out.

The next two meetings went much the same, and Barry was overjoyed to open up his PO box one day to find a package containing a certain book inside. He was both tearful by the short but heartfelt letter attached, and slightly fearful at the threat that if he leaked the book’s contents he would be fitted with a pair of cement shoes. Somehow Barry had the feeling that it wasn't a joke.

* * *

Barry was a nervous wreck.

Oh he had been just swell when Len called Maury to say he was ready to negotiate the deal after nearly two months of meetings, but only with Barry.

Now he was trying to stave off an anxiety attack.

A bathhouse. A godsdamned _bathhouse_. The one place Barry wouldn't be able to cover himself. Even his mask wouldn't work once inside, the humidity and water interfered with the sticking spell. It was a flaw Cisco was still trying to fix but hadn't managed to yet, and it had honestly been at the bottom of Barry's list of issues as he hadn't planned to go anywhere that would require it to work in such circumstances.

Bathhouses weren't dark, they hid nothing, and there were people everywhere. He knew he had to do this, but he couldn't do this, but he _had_ to.

As Barry started walking slowly towards one of the changing rooms, he just about collapsed in relief when an attendant had come up to him to escort him to a set of private rooms that Len had paid for.

He was told that ‘Mr. Snart’ would be a little late and to wait for him in the bath.

He stripped and placed his things in the attached locker room, keeping only his dog tags, and shrugged on a large and comfortable bathrobe before entering the bathing room. It was large and the bath itself was a small pool deep enough for Barry to swim in if he had the inclination.

Barry was still filled with anxiety, but this, _this_ much he could do. Although he was still thankful when he saw the oils, herbs, and bath salts added to the water had made it murky. It smelled wonderful and as he sank into the hot water, he moaned as the tension fled his body and his mind blanked. The scents and familiar tingling in his leg before it subsided made a memory click in his mind; this was almost the exact same combination of medicinal herbs and oils they had used at the veterans’ clinic Barry had gone to for physical therapy. How would Len know that?

Barry was pulled from his thoughts when the door opened and just as he wanted to ask that very question, he lost the ability to even think, much less _speak_.

“Thank you for joining me, Barry. I know it was asking a lot of you.”

Len stood in the doorway with not so much as a towel around his waist for the sake of modesty. But as… impressive as the elf’s _assets_ were, that was not what robbed him of speech.

It was the scars.

Scars stretched across his body like a vast and twisted star chart. None were as severe as his own, but they were far more numerous, which given Barry’s military record was odd. There were the expected pockmarks from bullets, multiple lesions from blades like someone had taken a paint brush to his skin, and the telltale faded injuries from rudimentary offensive magic. But then there were scars much older that seemed to hold no rhyme nor reason other than the obvious; they were dealt for the singular purpose of cruelty.

Dark tribal tattoos with the occasional beautiful watercolor flowed over the cicatrices covering him to claim each and every mark as his own, turning his body into a living work of art. He was startled to see some of the tattoos were _moving_. A tattooist with the gift for animation magic was rare and it was very expensive. It spoke of just _how_ wealthy Len was to be able to afford more than one.

Barry realized neither of them had said anything for some time and he instantly felt horrible. Here he was gawking at Len the same way people stared at his own face.

“Please forgive my disrespectful behavior,” Barry apologized, aching at the thought of making anyone feel the way he so often did. “I should know better. Please don't take it personally, I mean nothing by it. It's just-” He found himself unable to put it into words. He hadn't just stared at the elf because of the existence of such extensive scarring, no. It was because of an odd feeling of connection that rose up so unexpectedly.

“I understand completely. Don't worry, I could tell you weren't thinking what others tend to.” Len descended into the bath, settling close enough to Barry so that he could lean in and whisper. “I feel it too.”

His words gave Barry the courage he needed to look at him again.

“The stories behind what led us here may be different, but it doesn't _feel_ so different, does it?” Len asked.

Barry stared at the surface of the water to try and collect his thoughts.

“No, it doesn't,” he replied softly.

Then Barry felt a thigh brush against his own and he remembered very clearly where he was and what they were doing. Hopefully Len would write off his sudden redness to the heat of the bath.

Len seemed satisfied with something and moved to swim across from him, settling on the opposite underwater bench.

“So about the deal,” Len began.

Barry sat up straight, his sense of duty overtaking his embarrassment. “You said you were ready to renegotiate?”

“Yes. I'm willing to retract _some_ of my demands if satisfactory substitutes can be made.” Len smirked. The elf obviously had no intention of going easy on him, but Barry would work with whatever he could get.

There was much back and forth concerning key points of the deal, and Barry steadily relaxed as he focused on the dance.

Len was every bit as intelligent as he was shrewd. He easily gave up impossibilities once Barry argued himself red in the face, only to hit him with a ultimatum that Barry had no choice but to accept.

He was beginning to believe that Len's seeming irrationality from early contracts with other officials had been a drawn out act until he was sure he would get what he really wanted from them, and Barry's arrival had just expedited the process.

They didn't finish that night and Barry was certain neither side would be happy with this deal just yet, but the rough draft of their deal would be printed up on Len's side of things and sent to Maury anyway. Barry was confident that with a few more revisions they would have something concrete that they could all live with.

It was only as Barry was reaching for his robe after toweling off that he realized he was standing in full view of Len, who made no effort to hide his gaze. It felt strange being looked at by him, it wasn't anything like a random person, his family, a doctor, or even Maury.

Len's eyes were full of empathy, but they also held _heat_.

Barry didn't know what to do with that. Not now, not _yet_.

Instead of putting it on, Barry just grabbed the robe and held it in front of him, holding tight to it like a shield. “So… the water. I take it you've seen your share of physical therapists?”

Len glanced down at the murky pool and nodded. “On occasion. I find coming here regularly to soak helps with any aches or pains from old injuries. I thought you might appreciate it as well.”

“I do, thank you,” Barry smiled softly. He hesitated before reaching down to his leg, the burn scars encompassing the entirety of his right leg and halfway up his waist. “It feels better than it has in a long time. The doctors say to exercise it and soak as often as possible, except-”

“Who has the time?” The elf nodded in understanding. “Not to mention soaking alone can be droll. Then there are the days where it just seems too much effort. Luckily money means easier access.”

Barry winced. He had no doubt his leg would be miles better than it was now if he could go to places like this frequently.

“Would you mind holding all future negotiations here?” Len asked politely. “I think we would both benefit from it, and I have been neglecting some of my ‘upkeep’. I think the doc is conspiring with my people to tie me to a bed for an enforced spa day. Please save me, soldier boy.” His eyes shone with mirth and great charm.

Barry knew what he was doing and this way it wouldn't feel like charity in the least. “Well if a citizen is in need, I must assist,” he laughed. “I'll see you at the next meeting then.”

He turned to leave and tried not to run or trip and embarrass himself when he felt Len's eyes follow him.

  
“See you around, Barry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two guys in a hot tub~ sitting five feet apart cause they're not- oh wait.


	5. Draw Up The Curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry thinks on the present, the past, and the possibilities of the future. Len is all too willing to tip the odds in his favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will take a bit longer as I need to write the smut XD otherwise it is all written.

The rest of the meetings for further negotiations went much the same way. Except each meeting Len seemed to sit closer to him, extend their personal talks and make more quips.

Len _touched_ him more. In small ways at first: a hand on his shoulder, an arm stretched out behind him as they soaked, minute touches along his sides when the brushed past one another, a guiding hand at the small of back when they entered a new restaurant, and sometimes he would brush the hair out of Barry's face when it would fall into his eyes. He had let it grow out since he was discharged from the front lines and still couldn't bring himself to cut it.

Len said it suited him fine, but he liked being able to see his eyes more.

Barry felt nervous and anxious just before all of his meetings now. Not like before, like when he feared he would screw something up and ruin the contract. No, now he was afraid of putting Len off.

Barry had never… been truly intimate with anyone, even before his injury. He'd had boyfriends and girlfriends, been on plenty of dates before the army and during. But nothing serious, no one he had really felt comfortable enough to go ‘all the way’ with.

There were a few ‘almosts’ when he joined the military, it was amazing what almost dying on the regular did for one's libido. Even then, still nothing beyond desperate fumblings in the dark.

He sincerely doubted Len had so little experience. Barry knew better than to assume much. But it was the way Len moved, the way he darted so easily past his boundaries and away before he could even think to panic, the way he _looked_ at him.

If the elf carried over even a shred of his confidence and grace into the bedroom… Barry felt flushed just thinking about it. The very thought had kept him warm on more than one lonely night.

But how was he supposed to handle this kind of attention? He had so many issues he couldn't see why Len would want to involve himself any further with him. Barry was always brimming with barely repressed anxiety, awkwardness, and so on.

The scars weren't even the problem for once. He had reason to believe that Len even _liked_ them. It was a refreshing change to the feeling of neutrality he usually got at best from the few dates he had gone on since his discharge.

Their last meeting, Len had stood so close before Barry left, he had been so sure he would kiss him.

Barry twisted his dog tags between his fingers, trying to think things through. He wished he could talk to Iris about this, but…

_Caitlin was was expressionless. Her voice was monotone as she told him everything that happened after he went down._

_Iris was screaming, crying and covering her ears and shutting her eyes, trying to block out the Truth her magic was telling her when they delivered the news. The guilt that tore a new hole in his heart with each gut-wrenching sob only adding to the pain he was in. How he wanted to hold his best friend, only he couldn't even bear to be touched with his injuries._

_Two engagement rings now without their pairs._

He still couldn't talk to her like he used to. He couldn't speak to either of them so easily anymore. Not when he had failed them, when he had just been too slow _._ _Him_ , a speedster, the so called ‘fastest man alive’ had been _too slow_ to save not one, but two of his closest friends.

There was knock on the open door and Barry startled. He realized he had been standing there for awhile, his hand gripping the pair of dog tags he always wore so tight his knuckles ached with it.

“I- I'm sorry, you probably want to-” Barry stammered, still pulling himself together.

“I don't mind. Take your time,” Len waved. Without waiting for Barry to finish undressing and leave, he started pulling off his own clothes and meticulously placing them on hangers inside his locker. The golden lioness tattoo that roamed Len's chest over his heart watched him smugly.

Barry quickly turned back to his own clothes before he could be caught staring. Not matter how many times he saw Len's bare body, it was entrancing every time.

After the first few times they had bathed together, Barry was able to really look at Len beyond the scars and ink. He was slimmer than the suits made him out to be but still fuller than Barry's lanky build, and without the boots that gave him a few inches they were at an even height. He was honestly just a tad short for an elf. His muscle was well toned with softness in some areas that Barry desperately wanted to touch, and like all elves his body was hairless.

Each and every tattoo seemed to have some hidden meaning that Barry couldn't puzzle out. The only commonality they shared was that they were beautiful and accentuated his form to perfection.

All this came second to his hands in Barry's eyes. He could watch Len in complete silence for hours and let his hands tell him the whole story. He would have Len fingerpaint those stories on his skin if he could.

Barry pulled on his robe with just a touch of his speed to avoid his ‘problem’ being noticed. He made his way into the bathing room to enjoy the fancy finger foods and champagne Len had ordered them to celebrate their final negotiation.

Len soon followed and smiled as Barry ate his way through truffles like a starving man. It was hardly his fault he had a weakness for chocolates, especially when they had a delicious milk chocolate mousse inside! Barry had long since given up and let Len order them whatever expensive food that caught his fancy so long as he could have his sweets.

He didn't ask how much anything cost anymore. He slept better at night that way.

Len popped the cork on the champagne and poured them both a glass. It’s scent was sweet and smelled faintly of strawberries.

“To our new mutually beneficial relationship,” Len announced smoothly.

“The military’s and the Rogues’, you mean,” Barry replied with a flushing of his cheeks.

“Of course,” Len purred. “What else could I possibly mean…”

“I- um, nothing, ah- cheers!” Barry clinked their glasses and downed his quickly before busying himself pouring another. The alcohol content was far too low to do anything for him at all, but a social buffer was always welcome in his eyes.

He set his fresh glass of champagne and a plate of the chocolates on the edge of the bath. Then stepped out of his robe, finally having gotten his body under control, and slipped into the bath. Barry wasn't surprised to hear Len follow him in.

“So Barry,” Len began. “What are your plans for your bonus? I'm sure you were promised quite a bit for spearheading the military’s latest dirty dealings.”

Barry frowned. “I wouldn't call it ‘dirty’. You're more morally upstanding than most politicians I've dealt with.”

“I'm honored,” Len teased.

“And I don't know. Haven't thought about it really. The veterans’ clinic can always use donations,” Barry pondered.

“Surely you don't mean to give _all_ of it away?” The elf asked with a tone of dismay. “Helping the people is all well and good, my young saint, but you should consider _yourself_ a bit more. Why not put down some roots? A decent place _here,_ in the centre of the city maybe…”

“Maybe,” Barry spoke thoughtfully. “I've gotten so used to carrying so little and being able to leave quickly… it didn't occur to me to look at anything long term. I doubt I'd be able to afford anything here in uptown though.”

“I'm sure you can find something,” Len said mildly. “I've heard of a few openings. I can ask around.”

“I'd appreciate that,” Barry smiled in thanks.

“It's my _pleasure_ , truly,” Len assured him.

When had he gotten so close?

Barry tried not to startle as Len withdrew a bit and took a seat next to him. “So how have you been enjoying being back in the city proper? Now that you've had the time to relax.”

“It's wonderful. I went to the museum, the library, a few parks- ah, thank you for the theatre tickets by the way,” he said quickly.

“I apologize for not being able to go with you,” Len replied. “But you were able to make use of the spare ticket. Anyone special?...”

Barry smiled and nodded. “Sort of. My commanding officer's niece, Patty, was in the city and he asked me to show her around. It was fun.”

“Oh? And will you be seeing her again? I can't imagine she didn't enjoy your date, gentleman that you are.” Len was watching him intently.

Barry shivered a bit and sunk a little deeper into the warm water. Where had that chill come from? Was there a draft?

“Huh? Oh no, she was just visiting before she went back to college in Opal,” Barry shook his head. “And she's really nice, we have a lot in common, but it didn't go anywhere. I didn't think it was a good idea.”

Just like that the temperature returned to normal. Maybe one of the wards was on the fritz.

“A shame,” Len consoled. “May I ask why?”

Barry bought himself a moment as he bit into one of the truffles, licking his lips after it melted in his mouth. Then licked his thumb too. The heat of the bath must have melted them just a bit.

“I- I think,” Barry said slowly. “Well, she wanted a lot more than I was ready for at the time. I'm not- I don't move so quickly… I know there's not anything wrong with it, but I just- I like knowing someone well and knowing they'll be around. Not someone you just met, you know? I enjoy connecting, intimacy, more than anything else.”

“Certainly nothing wrong with that either,” Len agreed. “A no strings attached tumble can be good. Knowing someone can be better, so long as everyone is clear on what they want.”

Len sat down his champagne flute behind them, his arm coming back down to settle against Barry's back, and his hand resting oh so innocently on the man’s shoulder. Len's other hand came up to brush Barry’s hair behind his ear, tracing the scars in away that sent shivers through him. Len used the action to lean in closer.

“And _is_ there something you want, Barry?” Len's mouth brushed the shell of his ear, cool breath like mint teasing the damp skin, leaving little tingles in its wake. “Maybe something _I_ can give you?”

The elf was so, so close, and moving so slow. A trail of chilled skin followed the path his lips made until they hovered just above his own. He was shaking, scared in a way that tasted of excitement, like leading a victorious blitz in the middle of enemy ranks.

When Len kissed him, just barely a press of lips, Barry realized he was no longer shaking but _vibrating_. His eyes flew open, when had he closed them? Len was staring right back at him. But it was too late and he let out an embarrassed yelp at the same time Len jumped, the small electrical discharge from the sparks Barry was emitting amplified by the water into a stinging bite.

“Oh my _gods_ , I am so sorry!” Barry waited until Len had climbed out of the water before dashing into the locker room, almost falling twice.

What was he thinking?! Barry roughly toweled himself off and tied it loosely around his waist while he tried to straighten out his clothes, his hands shaking so bad he kept dropping them.

He cursed when he dropped his jeans again and picked them up, putting them on roughly, and ignoring the way his leg complained. W9hen he stood to pull them up, he could feel someone standing behind him. Barry wasn't the only one quick on his feet it seemed.

“Running away, little soldier boy?” Len questioned quietly.

Barry was trying to swallow past the lump in his throat enough to speak. His nerves were shot and he had no idea what to say.

“I know I make you nervous when I look at you. I know I make you tremble when I'm close. What are you so afraid of, Barry? Of me?” Barry heard him step closer. “Or of being _seen_ by me? Do you hate the idea of being touched by me? I don't think you do.”

Barry stared down at his feet, hands clinging to the towel in his hands. He could feel Len so close behind him, the line of body heat against him was a physical touch in and of itself.

Fingertips alighted over Barry's ribs, a gentle testing of the waters, and he shook with both anxiety and want.

Len spoke lowly in his ear, lip just barely brushing the outer shell. “You like it, don't you?”

Barry closed his eyes as he tried to think, but the warmth of the bath and Len's presence left his mind more clouded and confused than any amount of HFC ever had. Barry knew he wanted Len. That was never in doubt. But could Barry handle the eventual consequences for giving in? Could he handle Len throwing him aside once he’d had his way? He couldn't hope for a future with this elf, not as powerful as Len so obviously was, when he could have anyone he wanted. What would the kingpin of a criminal empire want with him past satisfying a passing fancy?

Maury had said it himself, catching the eye of Cold couldn't possibly end well.

As it was, his superiors would likely replace him once the deal was signed off by all the proper channels and he would be sent elsewhere onto his next mission. They would want a more experienced and higher ranking official overseeing things from then on.

The idea of not seeing Len almost every other day abruptly made his heart cringe in agony. If it really was to be the last time Barry would be able to be _this_ close to Len, couldn't he allow himself to have this? He hadn't been lying before when he said he wanted intimacy, a commitment, but was it worth denying them both? Was it worth giving up what could be one of the best mistakes he would ever make?

Willing his hands to stop trembling, he released his death grip on the towel and let it fall to the floor, sliding his hands up to lay them over Len's. After a beat, he laced their fingers together and he almost sobbed when the warmth along his back embraced him fully.

Len leaned over his shoulder, nuzzling along his cheek before brushing the corners of their mouths together. “I want you. I want to have you. Do you want me too?”

  
" _Yes_.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be continued after final additions in a later part 2!
> 
> A moodboard will be coming to my tumblr soon! You can find me at:  
> a-redharlequin.tumblr.com  
> Or  
> theroguesharlequin.tumblr.com for easier access to all my Flash verse content, all the time!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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